Plain Sight
by exclationpointxx
Summary: Paul had no clue how much Danny meant to him... Until he lost him.
1. Nutella

"Who the fuck ate the last bit of Nutella?" Paul Zimmer glared accusingly at his dear friend and colleague, Danny Edge.

"Dude, it _wasn't _me," Danny said as he quickly smeared his Nutella coated hand across the leather couch cushion he was seated upon.

"Danny, it was you! It's always you," Paul insisted. "The fans send the Nutella to _us_, and _you _always are the one that eats it."

"Oh yeah, the fans are so great..." Danny smiled to himself, folding his hands against the back of his head. "I love the fans."

"You're right, the fans are- wait! Stop trying to change to the goddamn subject," Paul snapped. "If I were to tell the fans that you do that, they'd agree with me."

"Why don't you tell the fans, then?" Danny smirked. He didn't think Paul would actually accept his challenge, so he was a bit surprised when Paul pulled out his tripod.

"They'll totally side with me, man," Paul began setting up the tripod. He checked out his hair in the mirror, combing it to the side with his fingers several times before he was satisfied. His hair was glossy, and perfectly framed his strong jawline. As a final but necessary touch, he pulled his orange Hollister shirt over his head and tossed it at Danny.

His abs were beautiful, and shone in the iridescent glow of the overhead light. Over the course of two years, Paul had become more and more dedicated to his muscles, and had grown himself quite the six pack. Even Danny couldn't resist stealing a somewhat jealous glance at his friend's gorgeous body.

"I still don't get why you feel the need to take your fucking shirt off whenever you do a video," Danny rolled his eyes and proceeded to lick the remaining Nutella from under his nail bed.

"It's for the fans," Paul shrugged and flexed in front of the camera. "They like it."

After Paul finished setting up the video camera and styling his glorious appearance, he glanced to Danny. Danny was still seated on the couch and made no sign of moving any time soon.

"Dude, why are you staring at me? Stop it. It's creepy." Paul still unconsciously flexed his pecks even though he wanted to prevent Danny's wandering eyes to peek at anything else.

Danny shook his head to knock himself out of his stupor. "Sorry, I just can't believe you're actually making a video. You can't even prove I ate the Nutella."

"I didn't eat it, and it's gone. No more proof is needed. Are you even going to be in this video?"

"No," Danny replied sternly. Why would he want to be in a video portraying him as some sort of Nutella Fiend?

Paul shrugged his sculpted shoulders and pressed record on the camera. He flipped his hair to the side with a quick jerk of his neck and began to speak.

"Hey guys, its Paul Zimmer," he gave his usual greeting with what he hoped was a flattering smile. "Alright, so Danny ate _all _of the Nutella you all sent in. Don't you think he should've let me have some before he f*cking gobbled it all down?"

"Not true!" Danny called from his vantage point on the sofa, unseen by the camera.

"Nah, he was feeding on my share of the Nutella like some sort of fetus," Paul cast a sidelong glare at Danny.

"Dude, a fetus is a baby," Danny laughed. "Are you calling me a baby?"

"You said you weren't gonna be in the video. So _why _do you keep talking?" Paul's eyebrow twitched. "The f*ck, man."

Danny didn't comment, so Paul decided to continue with his plea to the fans. He had barely opened his mouth to continue speaking when an object flew across the room and struck Paul right in the back of the head. He stumbled, shocked, before cursing loudly and spinning around to face Danny.

"What the hell _was _that?" Paul rubbed the back of his skull. "Not cool, dude!"

"It was just a jar of Nutella," Danny chuckled. "It didn't even have anything in it. Chill the fuck out."

"Yeah, well it hurt, Danny!" Paul clenched his fists. "You can't just go around throwing things at people for no reason."

"You throw stuff at _me _while I'm filming all the time. It's not that big of a deal."

"But when you did it just then, it was malicious!"

"Oh shuddup, you sound like such a little bitch right now."

"It was really uncalled for, man!"

For a few minutes, there was absolute silence between the two. Danny's sky blue eyes burned into Paul's gray-green ones, and each of them set their jaws and refused to speak.

After several minutes of this, Paul grumbled something about going to fetch ice for his wound, leaving Danny alone with nothing but six empty jars of Nutella.


	2. Memory Lane

Danny pulled the collar of his shirt up high on his neck, and plunged his hands into the pockets of his blazer, determined to protect himself from the chill of the November afternoon. Despite the promise of winter hanging in the air, it felt good to be outside; it felt good to clear his head.

Danny sighed deeply, the icy air flooding his lungs and calming his racing pulse. Things with Paul seemed to be growing more and more difficult by the day. Paul had been moodier lately, more anxious. Danny couldn't understand the change in him. Maybe the fame had finally gone to his head- Danny wasn't sure. All that he was sure of was that the Paul who had ridiculed him just moments earlier was not the same Paul that he had known since childhood.

The sun sank low over the winding streets of Phoenix, Maryland, its last rays like dying fingerprints upon the pavement. How had it come to this? He continued to ramble aimlessly down the country road, not knowing where he was going and not particularly caring where he ended up. He remembered the good times, back when he and Paul had first broken into internet stardom. Paul had been shy then, and also the best friend that anyone could ever ask for... Especially after all that had happened to Danny's own mother.

Danny pulled his blazer tighter about him, as if using its embrace to fill the void he felt deep in his core. His mother had been gone for five years now, and he still could not think of her death without tears springing to his azure eyes. He wiped a quick hand across his face, trying to erase the incriminating trace of moisture on his cheeks. Sometimes, he felt that Paul's friendship had been the only thing to get him through the tragedy.

"God, Mom, what do I do about this?" Danny spoke out loud, desperately hoping for some kind of reply, but of course no answer came save for the babbling of the nearby creek.

He bent down and plucked a smooth, grey rock from the side of the road. Mustering all of his strength and frustration, he flung it as hard as he could into the water, breaking its smooth, liquid surface. If only he could just talk to again her for a few minutes, she would know what to do about Paul's moods.

Danny looked out over the creek as the sun slipped below the edge of the earth. He should be heading back soon, he knew; he did not want to be stuck miles from the house after sundown.

He turned in the direction of the house and began walking, cold beginning to creep into his bones and numb his body. It was a welcome kind of numb, he decided; the physical discomfort distracted him from the thoughts racing through his mind.

In his pocket, his half-frozen hand closed around a folded piece of paper, and he smiled to himself despite his agony. Months ago, he had begun keeping pieces of fan mail in the pockets of each of his jackets, so that he might have something positive to lift his spirits when he started thinking too much. It was good to know that someone appreciated him- especially with how distant and ungrateful Paul had been lately. He pulled out the small square of paper and opened it with shivering fingers.

His quickly glazed over the hand written letter with its curly, looping hand writing. His eyes plucked a few words from the three paragraphs: "awesome," "cute," "perfect." He felt a surge of love in his heart for the note's author, though he had never met her and probably never would.

Feeling a bit more optimistic, Danny lifted his head and dabbed the last of his tears off with his sleeve. He couldn't go on moping, not when there were fans to please and inspire- and he knew that he would have plenty of opportunities to make a difference in the lives of his fans at the meet-and-great party down town tomorrow night.

He quickened his steps, eager to get inside and warm up his frigid limbs. He would have a cup of hot chocolate and maybe make a video of his own when he got back, he decided. Hell, maybe he'd even plan his outfit for tomorrow night's party... or even open up another jar of Nutella.

The house lights appeared like a light house in the shadowy distance. Their glow and warmth seemed to call to him, despite the unfriendly greeting that Danny knew he would receive from Paul. Danny took one last moment to breathe in the fresh air before climbing the front steps and reaching for the door handle. He prepared himself for what awaited him inside. He would have to figure out some way to talk to Paul about his behavior; they had been through too much to jeopardize their friendship.


	3. Wall

Paul Zimmer was awakened suddenly by the insistent vibrating of his phone.

"Shit... I overslept." He rolled over and grabbed his phone off of his nightstand, dreading the messages from Danny that he knew must have flooded his phone. Sure enough, there were eleven texts- plus five missed calls.

He scrolled through his messages, the brightness of the screen stinging his weary eyes. A sigh escaped him; he shouldn't have let himself fall asleep. He knew that.

This was the latest in his recent string of failures, he knew; Danny was going to be furious. The worst part of everything was that Paul knew he could not even blame his friend for being angry. He deserved Danny's rage- in fact, it was probably the only thing he deserved at all.

He rolled out of bed and landed with a thud on the floor, which was littered with pizza boxes and dirty clothes. He had to figure out what to wear to the meet and great party, and he had to do it quickly.

He pulled himself to his feet, looking down at his body as he did so. His rippling abs gazed back up at him, sleek and taught in their god-like beauty. His body was the one thing that made him feel better at times when he felt as though he was failing in the one thing that he had set out to do- become a star.

He opened his closet begrudgingly and sifted through layer upon layer of clothes. Nothing in his extensive wardrobe seemed to catch his eye, or suit the occasion. He hated the thought of not looking perfect in front of his fans, the people who he knew loved him even when he felt like he didn't deserve it. He could not allow himself to have even a brief lapse of perfection; his fans deserved the absolute best, and nothing else- despite the pressure that he put on himself.

"I'm a fucking mess." Paul drove his fist hard into the plaster of the closet wall, not even flinching at the pain shooting up the muscles of his arm. "I don't deserve fans this great, I can't even be on time for my own damn meet and greet."

He collapsed onto himself on the floor of his closet amidst the crumbs of plaster, cradling his wrist against his chest. His phone began to ring again, and from his position of the floor he could just crane his neck enough to see that it was Danny calling. He extended his good arm and sent the call to voice mail. He should just go back to bed.

Paul crawled towards the bed and climbed into it stiffly. The pain in his wrist was getting worse, and now he had a mess of plaster to clean up in the closet. Why had he thought taking the anger out on the wall was a good idea? He groaned and curled into a miserable ball. Why he did these things, he did not know.

"Dude what the fuck?"

The door to the room was flung open suddenly with a monstrous bang. Paul startled, picking his head up to see Danny standing in the doorway, a look of confused anger in his enormous eyes.

"Paul..."

"I can explain," Paul began quickly, scrambling to his feet, careful not to put pressure on his hurt arm.

"No I don't think you can. Do you realize we have a meet and great in an hour?" Danny ran an anxious hand through his rich, flowing brown hair.

"Yeah man I know. I just uh, I've been sick."

"That's bullshit." Danny's soft mouth twisted with anger. He glanced at the decrepit surroundings, a look of disgust creeping over his angelic features. He reached down, grabbing a shirt and khaki pants off the floor and flinging them at Paul.

"Put these on, we're gonna be late."

"How the fuck did you get in here?" Paul growled, resentful of Danny's unwelcome intrusion.

"You gave me a spare key months ago." Danny snapped, refusing to meet Paul's eyes. "I wouldn't have used it, but you didn't answer your phone-"

"You don't have a right to barge into my fucking house."

"Alright whatever. I was just worried about you." Danny turned sharply, heading for the door. "Be downstairs in ten minutes, I'll be in the car."

He left nearly as quickly as he had entered, slamming the door in his wake. Paul let out an enormous rush of breath, dropping his head into his hands. Thank God Danny hadn't seen the plaster scattered all over the left corner of the room by the closet. Paul knew the last thing Danny needed was to become worried about him, especially after all that had happened with his mother.

Paul reached for the shirt that Danny had flung at him and pulled it over his head, covering his chest. He raked a hand quickly through his mop of hair, and wriggled into his pants before stealing a quick look at himself in the mirror.

The image that he saw was not terribly bad considering the circumstances. Though his arm was visibly swollen, his muscles still showed clearly, his fine veins popping out of his toned forearm.

He headed for the door, determined to pull himself together for the evening, knowing his fans depended on him. He could not give Danny any indication about what he'd done immediately before his arrival. No, he couldn't worry Danny- even though he had to admit that he was getting a little worried about himself.


End file.
